Trixie Morningstar
by HybridVigor999
Summary: Decades after the events depicted in Lucifer season 1, Trixie visits a grave to pay her respects, and gets an unexpected visit.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first post/story. These characters don't belong to me; they belong to the writers and folks at Fox working on Lucifer. I'm kind of new to fanfiction in general, so please leave me a comment and tell me what I can improve (or what you liked)! Thanks! [Trixie, Lucifer, mentions Maze-Future setting.]  
-HybridVigor999

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Chapter 1

Out of habit, my eyes scanned the perimeter and categorized threat levels. 30 yards away, an old man took off his hat, revealing thinning white hair. His wife's name was engraved on the concrete bench he sat on every Thursday at 3 pm. He had a routine I'd memorized, first through the scope of a high powered rifle. He came to talk to her for a bit, and then he'd read a book-sometimes aloud. Unlike him, I didn't pay my respects on a regular basis, or in a recognizable pattern. What I definitely did was due diligence. I'd watched and figured out, to the best of my abilities, the rhythm of life amongst the dead at Forest Lawn Cemetery.

When I did come out from behind the scope to trace my fingers over my father's name in stone, I knew it was safe. As long as I refrained from prayer, I would draw no attention. Not today.

My raincoat was a thrift store find, as were the ecru silk blouse and muted gray trousers. I even picked out sensible navy pumps, a pearl necklace and carefully coordinated (not matching) earrings to finish off the illusion of a normal, busy business woman. Plus, the trousers covered some pretty strikingly long scars on my legs from thighs to calves, where a demon once dug trenches into my flesh before finally catching my ankles. That had been a close call.

Nothing set off my spidey-sense as I walked the few blocks to the main gates. The serene beauty of the landscape interrupted only by sculptures and headstones was picture perfect. The sun shone, and no one gave me a second glance as I reached my destination.

I brushed an errant leaf from my father's tombstone. No, my first father-my biological father, not the other one. We'll get to that soon enough.

"Daniel Espinoza  
1978-2023  
Devoted Father, Faithful Servant"

After tracing his name with my fingers, I pulled open the paper shopping bag I'd brought with, and pulled out a small plastic to-go container with a generous slice of chocolate cake. Mom and Dad finalized the divorce when I was 8 years old, but he'd been there for me through thick and thin until he died. For us, chocolate cake was Switzerland and Christmas and a white flag rolled up in one.

Detective Espinoza was far from perfect, but he was my dad. And I missed him. I got my light brown complexion and dark hair from him, as well as my sweet tooth. I blinked back tears as I used the plastic silverware to place a piece of the cake onto a paper plate.

"Here you go, daddy. Cheers! I'm still alive, and the world is intact-so far. I miss you."

I placed his serving on top of his headstone with a fork, and turned around to sit so I could lean my back up against the carved rock. I took a bite of triple fudge, and closed my eyes, feeling the traitorous tears run down my cheeks.

"Do you know how ridiculous you look right now, darling? Really, it's embarrassing." And there he was with that sardonic British voice. My other dad, the devil himself.

He appeared so suddenly, I hadn't even heard him walking up. Which meant he probably hadn't walked. Considering he'd re-embodied nearly the full extent of his arcane powers after we lost my mom, it didn't surprise me as much as it once would have.

I opened my eyes and tilted my head up to see his face. He was a tall, rakish man, dressed to the nines in bespoke suit and shining wingtips. The only mark that decades of living on Earth had left on him were the threads of silver laced through his raven-black hair on either temple. Life with my mother had given his corporeal form enough humanity to age intermittently instead of remaining in stasis. I thought he secretly cherished any outward signs that reminded him of their time together.

Their love was, as I remember it from a child's perspective, the stuff of pure delight, desire, and romance-a cartoonish trickster prince and my self-saving-princess of a tough detective mom.

"Dad! What are you-" I finished the bite of chocolate cake, wiped my eyes, and set everything aside, quickly scanning the area.

"Don't worry, poppet. No one should see us. I've taken care of it. Feel free to gorge yourself on the cake and have a good snivel, as long as you don't wipe it on me." He shuddered in disgust.

"It's been a long time since I've snotted up any of your suits, Lucifer. I don't even get carded anymore. Seriously, what are you doing here?" I stood, brushing off the seat of my trousers. The old man had opened his paperback already, giving no indication he saw a tall, dark man suddenly appear beside me.

"I didn't want to let you visit Detective Douche's grave by yourself. Even though it has no real meaning, since he's not actually here and where he actually IS, he can't hear you or partake in cake-"

"DAD! Remember the rule?"

"Right. No violating the privacy rights of the dead by divulging where they went and all that. That's really a bother, don't you think? You're the adopted daughter of Hell. Shouldn't that come with some perks? Don't you want to know where-"

"NO!"

"Have I ever told you that you never look more like your mother than when you're making that exact expression and saying 'no' to me?" His dark eyes quickly gained a liquid sheen as he blinked hard and turned his back to me. I stepped up and gently put my hand on his shoulder, careful to avoid the scars where his wings used to be.

"You miss her as much as I do. I wish there was a place where we could go-"

Two decades ago, Lucifer would have thrown my hand off, and whirled to face me in his outrage, his voice shaking the earth. Though immortals learn lessons at their own glacial pace, proximal mortality and love and raising me had tempered him enough that when he interrupted me, looking at me over his shoulder-eyes glowing like embers-it was with a quiet but intense voice.

"No grave. No headstone. No crypt. We've discussed this before, and I won't have it. She's not dead, and I'll never stop looking. For either of them. End of discussion."

"I'm not a teenager anymore. The romantic notion that we would never stop looking for her... I outgrew it. Look at me, dad." I gestured to myself with open hands, palms out, fingers splayed.

Lucifer's red eyes faded back to their black coffee color as he turned back to face me.

"My lovely daughter," he murmured, a hint of sadness in the tilt of his lips.

"I'm almost as old as mom was when you two met. You forget that I'm not immortal. I don't have all the time in the world, and I MISS HER AS MUCH AS YOU DO. My heart is just as broken and incomplete, but I'm old enough to know that visiting a grave isn't for the one who's gone-it's for those who remain. What is it you've said over and over? Humans are so fragile? Well mom was human, Lucifer. What are the chances after all this time... I know you have your ways of knowing, but if you're so sure that she's not in heaven or hell, then where on earth is she?"

"I don't know, Beatrice. But I'll concede that if you arrange some false tribute to my Chloe's death, I will refrain from destroying it, for it WILL offend me greatly. That I promise you."

"I don't want to go to my own grave having never been allowed to truly mourn the loss of my own mother-which, by the way, is what I'm trying to do right now with my father. What are you doing here?"

"I didn't hate Dan, luv. And I felt your sadness, and decided to pop by and see my only adopted progeny in a rare moment away from her sharp pointy things and tedious 'End of Days' battle…" He rolled his eyes and did finger quotes at the end.

"Right, because hunting escaped damned souls, exorcising demons from innocent mortals, and facing off against YOUR father's winged enforcers is just some quirky hobby I picked up along the way. Look, I'm done. It's been really touching."

I turned to pack everything into my bag. Then I spotted the slice of cake on the paper plate resting just on top of my late father's gravestone. _This one's for you, daddy_ , I thought with a gleeful mischief. I scooped a handful of cake up and smeared it on both hands, blocking Lucifer's line of sight with my body as he talked.

"It has been touching hasn't it? I offered you comfort and paid my respects to Detective Douche. They should put us on a Hallmark card-OH MY FATHER ABOVE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

He and I both shrieked as I turned with gooey hands and latched onto him, pinning his elbows to his side in my bear hug, making sure to rub as much cake onto his fancy suit as I could. Peals of laughter erupted from deep in my belly as he squirmed with his eyes squeezed shut.

"Trixie Decker Espinoza Morningstar, you're lucky I'm cloaking this area and no one can see or hear us, you cheeky little minx! And I won't bother sending you a bill for this suit because you can't afford it on a librarian's salary anyways." With his arms still pinned, he muttered down at the crown of my head. I sighed and gripped him a bit tighter until I felt him relax slightly.

I sighed with my face against the buttons of his shirt. He awkwardly patted my back with one hand. Then he disengaged and stepped away, looking for all the world like an offended cat who'd been spritzed on the back with a spray bottle.

"Right. I'm leaving now."

"Bye, Dad!" I chirped, feeling a thousand times more cheerful than I had in months.

"Before I go, I took the liberty of bringing along your essentials, since Maze told me this area was going experience a significant breach of the Hellish variety, and I wouldn't want you to be caught off guard."

He reached behind a large headstone and pulled out a familiar army green tactical duffel almost as long as I was tall. He placed it at my feet, and I didn't bother picking it up. I knew what was in it, and I'd need to unzip the whole length the get my swords and sheath harnesses out from under the long rifle case.

"Aren't you pushing it a bit? You and Maze? Y'know-Thou shalt take no direct action…?" I flicked chocolate off my fingers, and knelt to rub my hands off in the carefully manicured lawn.

"Rules are meant to be broken, and if you can't break them, you should at least try to bend them, darling. Besides, I'm just bringing my daughter her belongings like a dutiful father. It has nothing to do with the Cataclysm or the rules or the war...Right?"

"Sure, dad, whatever you say. If you get in trouble with The Man Upstairs, don't come crying to me though…"

"After what you did to my suit? You should be much more sympathetic to my hypothetical punishment for attempting to be a good Samaritan! I'm off. Pop by Lux on your next day off, or Mazikeen will take it out on me."

"I will. I'll see you then."

"Stay safe, Trix."

I watched as he slipped sideways into reality and disappeared, his last word fading in an echo. I never got used to that. It was unsettling, especially since he'd never done any teleporting all the years I was growing up. Not until after my mother was taken…

Then I got a really bad feeling as I looked around. The old man's book lay abandoned on the bench where he'd been sitting. _Oh no…_

I ducked just in time to dodge a chunk of someone's grave sculpture as the, now possessed, old man hurled it at my head from several graves away. _Guess my break is over,_ I thought as I tore the long duffel zipper open as fast as I could.

 _Another day, another demon..._


	2. Chapter 2

It seems that kick-ass future Trixie has caught your interest! Excellent! Let's see how she fares against a demon-possessed old man, and learn more about her present and past. Leave a comment if you 1) like what I'm writing and want to say something about it, 2) have constructive criticism, or 3) have any theories about what happened or what is going to happen!

-HybridVigor999

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Chapter 2

The petite older gentleman ripped several hundred pounds of solid granite out of the earth with an inhuman roar. I ducked back behind my late father's gravestone and dug my hand into the duffel bag Lucifer had helpfully deposited within reach. The long rifle case was blocking everything! I gritted my teeth in frustration as the incredibly heavy projectile slammed into the grass not 10 feet from me, scraping a trench into the lawn like the trail from a meteorite strike.

It landed so I could read the epitaph:  
"NANCY URLINGER  
1930-1999  
TAKE FLIGHT"

Probably not what they meant by that.

My hand got tangled up in the heavyweight polypropylene webbing that made up my dual sword harness. I used my other hand to start scooping things out of the way, and finally my fingers made contact with the scratched up, dented old Altoids tin.

I pulled the small metal box out and nearly ripped the lid off, careless of the new bends and dents. If I didn't hurry, the old man wouldn't survive the stressors being placed on his mortal form, even if I did manage to excise the demon. No more Thursday afternoon visits to his wife's grave. No. Unacceptable!

I had to work faster.

Turning the tin over, I spilled the balled up length of yellowed fabric into my hand. What looked like a tattered old gauze roll with strange scribbles was actually a long strip of an ancient death shroud with runes, characters, and hieroglyphics written along its length in the blood of an angel: invocations against evil and words of power to enact exorcisms collected from every known source.

Another vocal chord shredding bellow reverberated through the cemetery. Abandoning the bag, I scrambled back and made myself as small a target as possible as I found the knot on one end of the invocation band. I gripped the knot, running the shroud strip between the fingers of my left hand to straighten it out as I started to wrap it around my palm, wrist, and between my fingers-MMA style. As my fingers passed over the angel blood script, I whispered the words scribed there from memory.

I have memorized words of power with unerringly correct pronunciations in Coptic, Sanskrit, Aramaic, Greek, Chinese, Norse, Japanese, Mongolian, Quechua, Nsibidi, and Ojibwe. Thankfully, the shroud itself only resonated magically with three specific invocations...which I was just about finished whispering in a frenzy when my father's gravestone slammed into my body, sending me sprawling.

It was a direct hit to my shoulder, ribs, and hip. I was more than momentarily stunned, but adrenaline slowed time for me. I looked back and saw that the host body had found my hiding spot all too readily, and he'd rammed right into the stone, knocking it out of place and straight into me.

Something in my body wasn't working right anymore. It didn't hurt yet, which was a bad sign. I didn't wait for the pain to set in. I rolled and scrambled, my right shoulder clicking oddly and something in my ribs catching.

The old man's face was distorted in a gleeful rictus, very similar to the drawings and depictions of a fictional supervillain named Joker. He hopped onto the top of the late Detective Espinoza's headstone like a nimble little monkey, using his momentum to topple it all the way onto its face.

"I'll be THE ONE! HAHA!" he exalted, hopping again to land about 6 feet in front of me.

Instead of getting up from my hands and knees position, I just leaned back in sheer terror and put my good arm up to try to shield against the demon. It was a calculated move, but the sheer terror was real...which helped bait the trap. My shroud wrapped hand pulsed with unearthly warmth.

"Please, don't!" I didn't have to work too hard to put a quaver in my voice. _Closer..._

"SO EASY! HAHA! I'LL BE THE ONE TO END IT!" He awkwardly frog-leaped closer, still using the host like an ungainly meat suit. He-it-whatever-was coming in for the kill. I had to time it just right, and with a bum shoulder too.

Fingers hooked like claws, he came at me. I read his intent, and with years of experience facing demonically possessed hosts, I anticipated it and dove into a martial arts roll, sliding right under his swiping arms. I came up fast, slamming my wrapped palm into the center of his chest.

At least I tried.

My damaged arm faltered, the nerves suddenly screaming in fiery agony. The demon redirected its host in a flash, and I felt blunt fingers sink into my back. Before I was crushed, I grabbed the back of my right hand with my left and forced my wrapped palm against the old man's sternum.

The power in the invocation shroud felt like the sun-side of a solar flare. Power uncoiled and whipped forth, burning and flashing brightly enough that I could see it white-hot through my closed lids. All the air whooshed out of the old man's lungs, and an afterimage of a twisted, half mauled humanoid figure emerged out his back like a pilot's seat ejecting from a jet. Then he exploded into a hazy, red metaphysical cloud, leaving no trace.

They always looked so surprised at that moment. I thought about making a meme about it, but the number of people who would laugh at it was monumentally low.

Jokes aside, it really hurt when the old man's body folded over my arms, and his entire weight fell on my damaged shoulder. We fell back and to the side. I tried to control the fall, but the result was not graceful at all. I barely managed to shift my arm to cradle his head before it struck a piece of granite.

My ribs protested again, and I tasted blood. Ignoring the alarms my body was sending my brain, I rolled the old man over onto his back and knelt beside him. He gasped once, his eyes shooting open wide enough to see whites all the way around his corneas. Then it started. Magical catch-up on all the damage the demon did to its host body, now that the demon's infernal magic was no longer present. His eyes rolled back into his head, and his body contorted and began to shake. The seizures were always the last step before they went.

Before my eyes, his muscles were shredding and bones shattering. Every blow and exertion the demon had forced through this corporeal form snapped back. I wasn't going to be able to stop it… He was dying.

Lucifer might not have seen the urgency, but for me, even one innocent life was too many. So I bent the rules a bit, knowing I might regret it later.

"AMENADIEL, I NEED YOU!"

The wingless one, the second fallen... He was no longer affiliated with Heaven, and he sure didn't take Hell's side. Lucifer and his brother were not on speaking terms after what happened with Lucifer, my mom, and the baby. But I needed time on my side, so I called him. No matter how dark and disillusioned he got, we were still family. I just happened to be the only person he considered family who wasn't on either side and had never tried to sway him or manipulate him. Maybe that's why he always came when I needed him.

The skies darkened and everything slowed to a complete standstill. The old man cradled in my lap convulsed in slow motion, slower by the moment. The darkness overhead shot down like an arrow, convalescing into human form.

 _He really stuck that superhero landing_ , a part of my mind observed. His long dark trench flared as he rose from his crouch certainly helped the cool factor, but more importantly, I could take a moment and let my adrenaline subside. After his father took his wings, Amenadiel had taken his own journey and regained his mastery over time (which was also possibly connected to my mother's disappearance, like Lucifer's re-imbuement, but there was no way to confirm).

"Trixie, what is-Oh no! Are you alright?!" He took the few steps and lifted me up. I cut my scream short and whimpered instead.

"Careful!" I managed to say through gritted teeth.

"I'm going to get you to a hospital. This is unacceptable." He always had such a gentle look in his eyes that I could see even when he was enraged. He lifted me into his arms easily. I almost passed out from the pain.

"No. Not me. Him. You-ow, ow, ow-can't use your powers to heal me without breaking the rules, but he's an innocent whose life is totally off-course because of infernal influence. Save him. Do a little clean up around here. Maintaining the veil is part of everyone's deal. I'll be OK while you do that."

"Trixie, you look like you've been hit by a truck. I can't-"

"You can, Amenadiel. Please? You're the coolest uncle around-ouch-And you know if you freeze me, at least I won't be hurting. Undo the demon's damage, and save him. Then, I promise, I'll let you take me to the ER."

"We're going to have words after this, Trixie. This is getting out of hand." His voice rumbled like distant thunder against my broken ribs. And then time froze for me.


	3. Chapter 3

It's been a ridiculous amount of time since I last posted. My apologies. I'm a single parent and I have a few other excuses, but let's just dive in and see how Trixie is doing after asking for Amenadiel's help. (Please review. Thanks!)

-HybridVigor999

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Chapter 3

When I opened my eyes, it was with a deep sense of regret. I came to consciousness in a miasma of pain.

The IV site at my elbow was aching, and bandages restricted my movement. Thankfully the firm feeling of being wrapped and cast stopped me from reflexively rolling off the side of the hospital bed into a ready crouch. Having already twitched, my muscles, tendons and bones screamed in agony at the small motion. I groaned and tried to deliberately relax my muscles.

A nurse stepped into the room and picked up my chart, flipping through the pages clipped to the board. She made her way to the sink and washed her hands.

"Hi," I said weakly. She turned to look at me.

"You're awake! Good! Your, um...really hot...uncle just left, but he'll be back soon. Let's check you out." She said 'really hot' a little under her breath, but I heard her. I guess she liked the tall, dark and bald type.

She was short and stacked, with dark skin and wavy black hair. Her uniform had cartoon puppies all over a field of purple. She pulled a small penlight out of her stuffed pockets and approached.

"Can you follow the light, please?" I did. My eyeballs protested.

"Great. How's the pain?"

"Hurts. A lot," I croaked dryly.

"You've got some pretty severe bruising and a few fractures. Do you remember what happened? Your uncle said you were hit by a truck. Hit and run?"

"Uh, yeah. I don't really know." I wasn't going to say much. I had no idea how far Amenadiel had taken clean up, so mum was the word. Besides, I really hurt, and I was actually pretty fuzzy on some details.

"You've got some head trauma too, so if you can't remember the accident, that's totally normal.

"Was there anyone else who came in with me? I think I remember an old man got hurt."

The nurse shot a puzzled look at me. "No, I can check though. As far as I know, you came in alone. There wasn't anyone else from the same accident."

That meant Amenadiel had rewound him to right before a demon jumped into him and took him for a joyride. Which also meant I probably wouldn't have to pay to re-carve and set my dad's tombstone. All the damage would have been undone as if it had never happened...except for the knocks I personally took, of course. Being one of the soldiers of Earth, and literally the only neutral party backed by (and for all intents and purposes abandoned by) both Heaven and Hell, I was sort of like...the Buffy. I really didn't want to be Buffy, since most of her life was drama and pain, and her taste in guys was pretty terrible, and I'm not a blonde.

I've been thinking about 'being the Buffy' for a few too many minutes by the time I realize the nurse has taken vitals, adjusted equipment, and left. These must be the good drugs.

Right on time (since my body is bloody bruised pulp, and I've got an IV of the good stuff), Maze appeared. She pushed open the hospital door and stalked in with literal hellfire shining in her eyes.

"I told you not to get hurt!" she yelled.

"Okay, oka-"

"Your body is too BREAKABLE, and I can't stand it! I should have taught you how to BAKE COOKIES instead of teaching you hand to hand behind your mom's back when you were still small enough to fit into LUGGAGE!" Not being the best at emoting and expressing, Mazikeen got randomly louder to the point of shouting as she loomed over me.

"Maze…"

"NO! I TOLD LUCIFER and I told him again and again THAT YOU REALLY CAN'T keep fighting for the neutrality or you'll END UP DEAD!" She gripped the adjustable bed rail that lay between my broken body and her demonic self. I eyed her hands wrapped around the top of the metal bar, and said, "Ummm…" as the metal crimped slightly under the pressure of her squeezing.

And then she burst into tears.

"I don't want you to die, Trix-mix. Just quit, okay?" I could barely make out these words between the sobs, but at least she wasn't going to rip apart my hospital bed with me on it. I lifted the less hurt arm and patted her shoulder, which I could reach because she was hunched over me crying.

"I have to be the buffy though." I said through bruised lips. "Nobody else can be the Buffy." Wait, was that weird? I felt weird about saying that, but it was what I meant. She stopped crying abruptly with a large sniffle, and looked at me with a quirk in her scarred eyebrow.

"The Buffy? What are you…?" She wandered over to my IV stand and picked up my clipboard chart, paging through. "Mmm, yeah. That would do it."

"You're pretty, Maze," I said. Because it was true. She looked just as young and dangerous and beautiful as she did when I was 8 years old. And I wanted to let her know.

"Oh sweetie. You should be on drugs a lot more. Less fighting, more FUN. I told Lucifer that too, but he doesn't seem to have any control over you whatsoever. And I'm DEFINITELY not cut out for it."

"Luci-DAD doesn't scare me. I do what I want," I said, with a bit of attitude. Albeit, a bit slurred.

"I know, munchkin. I just think maybe you should want to make out with a few dozen steaming hot guys, have a few casual orgies, and demolish entire liquor cabinets a bit more. You're still young. You're wasting all your tiny mortality on being beat up by asshole angels and shitty lesser demons that come crawling out the cracks from when Hell shattered."

"Hmm," I hummed in response. I had a lot of thoughts and ideas, but they kind of jumbled up and I couldn't say any words because I couldn't pick a train of thought. Hell cracked the same night mom disappeared and Lucifer went on an absolutely terrifying rampage, likewise cracking the gates of heaven. I don't remember much from that night. I might have blocked a few things.

"You're tired. You would be less tired if you let someone else try to keep Earth neutral. Or, you know, just let the demons and angels fight it out...You know we have a pretty well warded bunker, right? Anyways," she leaned in and kissed my forehead lightly as if she'd taken lessons from Tinkerbell, "I have to get out of here before That Man comes back. I'm not speaking with him right now."

"'Nother fight?!" I murmured, eyes at half mast. They were so hot and cold, but they didn't really fool anyone anymore. The fights were mostly just for the purpose of having make up sex. Mazikeen had a key to Amenadiel's condo.

"I'll tell you about it over some mimosas, AFTER you get out of this disgusting place. Call before you get discharged. One of us will come get you, and you can stay in the penthouse until you're better. Okay?"

"Uh.."

"DO IT." She pointed a finger and glared. Then she walked out. I fell asleep shortly after that. I dreamed about my mom with a slightly rounded belly, the glint of her wedding ring, Lucifer's pure and happy laugh. When I woke, the room was dark, and the sun had fallen.

And I was holding a glowing angel feather in my right hand.

I tried to let it go, to throw it, but before I could get some distance, it flared brightly, like staring at the sun, and melted into my fingers, absorbing into me. My body sucked it in like gasping a breath of air after being submerged for long minutes. The warmth invaded, healing and knitting and soothing as it went, leaving me rejuvenated and whole...in better physical condition than I had been even before the brawl with the demon.

"OH NO," I said loudly. I felt AMAZING. And full of dread. Because someone had just made me break the rules. And things were about to get really, really complicated.


End file.
